


I Know What Hands Are For And I'd Like To Help Myself

by PosseMagnet



Series: Bad Boys Get Spanked [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Challenge fic, Condoms, Dirty Talk, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Fingerfucking, Improvised Restraint, M/M, NSFW, NSFW GIF, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Punishment, Rough Sex, Sam's sexy hips, Sassy Sam Winchester, Sibling Incest, Smut, Sub Sam Winchester, Sweet Dean, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 08:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13498268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PosseMagnet/pseuds/PosseMagnet
Summary: After a long day on the road Sam and Dean need to unwind.





	I Know What Hands Are For And I'd Like To Help Myself

**Author's Note:**

> This is a D/s-centric fic. Everything here is safe, sane, and consensual, even though there's not a lot about it in the actual fic. Our boys have been at this for a long time.
> 
> Read the tags. There are very nsfw gifs here. This is your last warning. 
> 
> Fic is also on Tumblr [here](https://theoriginalpossemagnet.tumblr.com/post/170233221560/i-know-what-hands-are-for-and-id-like-to-help). 
> 
> Title is from Handsome Devil by The Smiths

Dean Winchester didn’t know shit about mathematics, but if he did, he would _absolutely_ recognize the Golden Ratio. After all, he’s had it hanging off his dick more times than he can count.

 

Sam’s shoulder to hip ratio is most impressive when Dean does him doggie style, hips like handles so Dean can raw dog him real rough. But he also appreciates how sexy those hips are when they’re twisting in endless figure eights while his little brother rides his cock like a fucking porn star.

 

This no-tell motel is a carbon copy of any of the hundreds of others they’ve been in. At least it’s not one of those joints where you pay by the hour, plus extra if you want clean sheets.

 

Sam’s always in a hurry to wash the road grime off his ass when they’ve been on the highway for a long time. He’s stripping his clothes off as soon as his duffel hits the mattress.

 

Dean’s always in a hurry to fuck. Always. Long hours in the car just make it worse. The Impala is like a gigantic vibrator, and she _always_ gets Dean’s blood up.

 

So, when Sam opens the door to the dingy bathroom, drying his long hair with one towel, the other wrapped around his slim waist, Dean is diamond hard in the time it takes him to rake his eyes down the broad, wet expanse of tanned chest and come to rest on the spot where can see the bulge of Sam’s thick cock tenting the threadbare towel.

 

“Drop the towel, Sammy,” he growls.

 

Sam drops the towel he’s using to dry his hair and smiles just enough to show off his dimples.

 

“Funny guy, huh?” Dean asks, then, “Drop the towel, Sammy, or I’m going to tan your ass with my belt. You’ll have to ride on your stomach in the backseat for a few days.” It’s Dean’s turn to grin now, toothy and predatory, “Or is that what you want, Sam?”

 

Ordinarily Sam would be tempted to push Dean, especially for a spanking, but they were going to be driving for nineteen hours straight for the next few days. That’s too much time for the six-foot-four Winchester to be stranded in the backseat with a sore ass. He changes his smile to something pacifying, less confrontational, and drops his towel.

 

“Get it in the air,” Dean orders.

 

Sam steps over to the bed, sinking to his knees on the edge of the mattress. He folds so his cheek rests on the scratchy motel comforter. He draws his arms behind his back and clasps a hand around the opposite wrist. He pushes his ass into the air, almost to the point that it strains his back. He waits like that, unmoving, until Dean folds himself over Sam’s prone body. He’s naked too, dick slotting in between Sam’s plump ass cheeks. Dean’s cock is heavy, hot, and leaky wet. He ruts against Sam’s crack, drooling a steady stream of precome over Sam’s hole.

 

Dean wraps his long, brilliant fingers around Sam’s dick, and Sam bucks into the tight fist with a moan. A squeeze and mean twist accompany Dean’s stern voice in Sam’s ear, “Be still, Sammy, or you won’t get to come today… and maybe not the rest of the week either.” Sam wines, but his body immediately stills, with an accompanying, “Yes, sir.” Dean croons, “There’s a good boy,” as he resumes stroking Sam’s prick.

 

Dean’s weight shifts slightly, and Sam yelps when two slick fingers push past his rim and start fucking him hard, his brother’s fist thumping unceremoniously against his taint. It punches the air out of him in little bursts, his pleas of _fuckdeanplease_ blur together into one long needy noise.

 

The hand gripping Sam’s cock disappears, then is planted firmly between his shoulder blades. It pushes his front deeper into the mattress, lifting his ass higher into the air, and angling his hips so the globes of his ass spread wider. It’s exactly what Dean wants, making it easier for him to watch his fingers pillaging his brother’s asshole. He pauses long enough to shove a third finger alongside the other two and twists his wrist, so his fingers hit Sam’s prostate with rapid fire precision.

 

Sam tries to squirm, but Dean’s weight on his shoulders, with his hands behind his back make it impossible to get enough leverage to do anything very impressive. Sam’s voice is wrecked he warns Dean, “Gonna come, Dee. Need to come. Let me—fuck, _PLEASE_.”

 

Dean withdraws his fingers immediately, making Sam sob _pleasepleaseplease_ again desperately. The weight of his brother disappears from between his shoulder blades, and Sam looks around for Dean without lifting his head.

 

“You can lift up to all fours, Sammy,” Dean offers, generously. He’s digging through his duffel but hears the creak of bed springs as Sam rises.

 

Sam’s breath comes in hiccups, and he sounds exhausted and forlorn when he asks, “Dee, please let me come. Don’t make me wait until tomorrow. I can’t.” Even though he knows damn well he can and would in a heartbeat if Dean told him he had to. He snuffles in a breath, and Dean knows Sam’s crying. “I can’t wait, Dee. Please. Don’t make me.” Sam sounds so small when he begs Dean.

 

Every cell in Dean wants to go over and soothe Sam, but his little brother is winding down on his own now, so Dean leaves him to calm down for a few more moments, still alert in case Sam safe words. By the time he finds what he needs in his bag Sam is finally calm. Dean helps Sam lie down on his side, and situates himself beside his brother, face to face, chests pressed together enough for Dean to feel his brother’s heart hammering against the cage of his ribs. He thumbs the tears off Sam’s red cheeks with a tiny peck on his nose. He makes soothing noises, shushing Sam while he runs a hand through Sam’s sweat-soaked hair, gently untangling knots with his talented fingers as he goes.

 

“You okay now, baby?” Dean asks earnestly.

 

Sam nods, and asks softly, “Do I have to wait?”

 

“No, Sammy. ‘M not gonna make you wait. I _am_ gonna punish you for being a smart ass though,” Dean says sternly.

 

Sam’s hazel eyes are wide and solemn, “Spank me?” he asks.

 

“Nah,” Dean answers. Sam pouts and Dean continues with a chuckle, “First of all, sweetheart, you want it too bad right now for it to be an actual punishment, no matter how hard I go. Second, you weren’t _spanking_ bad. Something smaller will do just fine.”

 

Sam hears a crinkle and his eyes follow the noise to Dean’s hands and sees him tearing open a condom packet. He removes the rubber and rolls it over his thick cock.

 

“Oh, come on, Dean,” Sam is suddenly bristling with annoyance. “A condom. Really? _That’s_ my punishment? You won’t come inside me?”

 

Dean nods. “Yeah. Pretty much. I gave you an order, and you were a smart ass. Don’t be such a brat next time. Only big boys get their ass filled with come.”

 

Sam’s bitchface is legendary. “You suck.”

 

Dean plants a kiss in the middle of Sam’s forehead, “I know, but you love me,” he grins. “Now c’mon. Up on all fours.”

 

Sam does what he’s told, but with no small amount of grumbling. He lets his head hang between his biceps, hair dragging along the bed as if to emphasize how morose he is right now.

 

The blunt head of Dean’s cock is chilly with lube when it pushes into Sam. Dean spreads those lush, round ass cheeks wide, so he can thumb at Sam’s puffy, red rim while he sheaths himself inside his brother with one smooth thrust. He grinds against Sam, relishing the way Sam’s hole squeezes the base of his cock.

 

With a gasp Sam begs, “Please, Dean. God, fu-uh-uk. Jesus. Just _move_ , please.”

 

The sound of his little brother’s needy begging goes straight to his dick. “Fuck, Sammy,” he groans, “You’re so tight for me. Wanna fuck your perfect ass right into the mattress.” His hands slip up to grip Sam’s hips, those tanned, golden handles, made just for Dean.

 

“God, yes. Please Dee, fuck me,” Sam pleads, fisting the comforter when Dean’s hips snap forward, slapping loud against Sam’s ass.

 

“Patience,” he groans, “Lemme just— _fuck_ , Christ, Sammy. Feels so fuckin’ good, baby.”

 

He keeps a bruising grip on Sam’s waist, snapping his hips forward hard. His pace is still leisurely at the moment, because right now, he’s just enjoying the view.

 

 

Dean groans, “Shit. Still so tight, baby. Even after taking my fingers like a good boy.”

 

“Harder, Dee, please,” breathlessly pleading, Sam’s voice is needy. His back muscles strain with the effort it takes to not fuck himself back onto his brother’s cock.

 

“In a minute Sammy,” Deans voice is gritty, rougher than it normally is, and Sam knows Dean’s not just using the slower pace to restrain Sam, but himself too.

 

“Goddamn it, your fucking ass, baby,” Dean growls between clenched teeth, making Sam shudder. “Fucking tight. So fucking sexy.”

 

He pulls out, with a slap to Sam’s ass when his little brother whines. “Roll over, bitch.”

 

“Fucking jerk,” Sam mumbles, out of habit. He does what he’s told though, he isn’t _stupid_.

 

Dean kneels on the bed between Sam’s thick thighs, “Grab your ankles and spread your legs,” he orders, “And do _not_ let go. Don’t you dare come either. You’ll wait until I tell you or you’ll spend the next week in your cage.”

 

Sam didn’t _hate_ wearing his cock cage, but it wasn’t something that he’d risk being punished with. He grabs his ankles tight, and spreads his neatly folded legs wide, giving Dean unobstructed access to his needy hole, and ensuring nothing would touch his cock, it was too sensitive to even risk grazing it.

 

“Dean waits patiently for Sam to situate himself. He kneels above his brother, prick in hand, stroking more lube over himself. Sam’s making sure he’s got a tight grip on his ankles when Dean slips three fingers into his hole. He traces a thumb around Sam’s puffy rim while he fucks his fingers in and out of his brother. He slips his pinkie in next to the first three fingers. A shudder runs through Sam, his hole clenches around Dean with a dirty squelch that makes Dean curse under his breath.

 

When Dean curls his fingers up to stroke over Sam’s prostate, the younger man arches off the bed with a desperate cry.

 

“Fuck, baby,” Dean swears reverently, “So sensitive. You want my cock, Sammy? You want me to fill your ass with this big cock?” His strokes over his dick again, for emphasis.

 

“Yeah,” Sam answers breathlessly, “Fuck yeah. Need it, Dee. ‘M ready.”

 

Without anymore preamble, Dean spreads his knees wide, and covers Sam with his body, arms planted firmly on either side of his brother’s broad chest. He angles his hips to line up his cock. Once the head slips in, he punches forward, fast and hard, immediately setting up a punishing pace.

 

Sam curls in on himself, abs flexed, head off the mattress, long hair bouncing with the rapid-fire slap of skin on skin. The elder Winchester growls when Sam starts moaning and cursing loud enough for their motel neighbors to pound on the wall separating them from the Winchesters.

 

 

Neither of them speaks, it’s all pounding flesh, fucked-out squelches from Sam’s wrecked ass, and a litany of grunts, groans, growls, and incoherent cries. Sweat runs in rivers over Sam’s tanned skin, and he looks so fucking sexy taking a pounding from his big brother’s cock that Dean has to bite his lip to keep from nutting right then and there.

 

After several minutes, tremors start to run through Sam’s muscles. He’s trying so hard not to come, it’s taking every bit of restraint he has in his possession, but Dean isn’t slowing down, Sam thinks Dean seems like he’s never going to come, or let Sam come, for that matter.

 

But like Dean can see these thought’s racing through Sam’s head, because he pants, “Sammy, baby, you ready to come? Can you come for your big brother?”

 

The younger man answers in a strained voice, “God _yes_ , Dean. Fuck, please! Please! _Pleasepleaseplease_!”

 

With a growl, Dean angles his hips so he’s punching Sam’s prostate with every thrust, causing the younger Winchester to sob, without ever pausing in his whined _pleasepleaseplease_.

 

Sam’s face is wet with sweat and tears, and his hair clings to the moisture and Dean just eats it up. He’s not a monster though, so he decides it’s time to put Sam out of his misery.

 

“Sammy, don’t you dare touch your cock. You hear me?” Despite his breathless panting, Dean’s voice still drips with sharp authority. “You keep those hands on those ankles and come for me, baby. Come for me now, Sammy.”

 

Sam’s head falls back, and his body shakes itself apart as his cock jumps, and slaps down on his belly as he comes hard. Milky white drops splatter his chest and all the way up to his chin.

 

The sucking pull of his brother’s asshole squeezing his dick sends Dean over the edge. He buries himself deep inside Sam, His cock swells, and jerks hard, flooding the condom with a hot wash of jizz. He’s momentarily regretful that he’s filling a condom with his load, and not his little brother. He’s still squeezing out the last pulses of his orgasm when he moves again, fucking his over-sensitive dick into Sam’s sloppy hole, slow and deliberate.

 

He’s finally soft enough to justify pulling out, but he does it reluctantly. He excuses himself to the bathroom for a second. He knots the end of the rubber and tosses it into the toilet. He wets one of the motel washcloths and wipes the sweat and jizz off his face and chest and cleans his dick up before rinsing the washcloth. He carries it back to the bed with him, stopping to grab a bottle of water from his duffel on the way.

 

Sam’s not holding his ankles anymore, but his legs are still up, though his feet are resting on the bed. His face is streaked with tears and sweat. Dean’s heart squeezes at the sight of his brother, fucked-out, debauched, and absolutely fucking beautiful.

 

Dean slides onto the bed next to Sam and helps his stretch his mile-long legs so they lay flat on the bed. He uses the cool washcloth to clean Sam’s face, chest, and arms. He sits Sam up just a bit and holds the water bottle to his lips. Sam’s eyes fall closed and he hums with satisfaction, his throat working to swallow the cool liquid. Dean puts the bottle to the side and returns to the bathroom to rinse the cloth again.

 

Sam looks relaxed and floaty when Dean returns to the room. He’s coming down now, and Dean kisses him gently when he sits again. When the kiss breaks, Dean murmurs, “You’re such a good boy for me, Sammy. So proud of you. Make me so happy, you know?”

 

Sam gives Dean a wide-eyed nod, and a dimpled smile. Dean gives him a peck on his forehead before taking the rag in hand again. He gently wipes Sam’s cock, and gently soothes the cool rag over his swollen hole.

 

Once Dean has him as clean as he can get him with the washcloth, Dean gives him another drink of water and helps him roll to his side, facing away from Dean. He pulls Sam tight against his chest. He begins gently rubbing the strained muscles in Sam’s arms, shoulders and neck, mixing in a generous helping of kisses over his brother’s broad shoulders. He keeps rubbing until Sam is loose and relaxed, and hums happily, deep down in his chest.

 

“You doin’ okay, Sammy?” Dean asks.

 

Sam rolls over until he’s facing Dean, pressing their foreheads together. “I am, Dee,” He sighs happily, “Thank you. It was so good,” he breathes.

 

“You’re welcome, baby,” he rolls so Sam can rest his head on Dean’s strong chest. “Get some sleep. We’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”

 

Sam doesn’t answer, because he’s already asleep in his brother’s arms.


End file.
